It very greatly astonished Burleigh Wentworth, who after his acquittal had drifted down to Cowes for rest and refreshment before the advent of the crowd.  He had not seen Lady Violet before his departure, she having gone out of town for a few days immediately after the trial.  But he took the very next train back to London as soon as he had seen the announcement, to find her.

It was late in the evening when he arrived, but this fact did not daunt him.  He had always been accustomed to having his own way, and he had a rooted belief, which the result of his trial had not tended to lessen, in his own lucky star.  He had dined on the train and he merely waited to change before he went straight to Lord Culverleigh’s house.

He found there was a dinner-party in progress.  Lady Culverleigh, Violet’s sister-in-law, was an indefatigable hostess.  She had the reputation for being one of the hardest-working women in the West End.

The notes of a song reached Wentworth as he went towards the drawing-room.  Lady Violet was singing.  Her voice was rich and low.  He stood outside the half-open door to listen.

He did not know that he was visible to any one inside the room, but a man sitting near the door became suddenly aware of his presence and got up before the song was ended.  Wentworth in the act of stepping back to let him pass stopped short abruptly.  It was Percival Field.

They faced each other for a second or two in silence.  Then Field’s hand came quietly forth and grasped the other man’s shoulder, turning him about.

“I should like a word with you,” he said.

They descended the stairs together, Burleigh Wentworth leading the way.

Down in the vestibule they faced each other again.  There was antagonism in the atmosphere though it was not visible upon either man’s countenance, and each ignored it as it were instinctively.

“Hullo!” said Wentworth, and offered his hand.  “I’m pleased to meet you here.”

Field took the hand after a scarcely perceptible pause.  His smile was openly cynical.

“Very kind of you,” he said.  “I am somewhat out of my element, I admit.  We are celebrating our engagement.”

He looked full at Wentworth as he said it with that direct, unflickering gaze of his.

Wentworth did not meet the look quite so fully, but he faced the situation without a sign of discomfiture.

“You are engaged to Lady Violet?” he said.  “I saw the announcement.  I congratulate you.”

“Thanks,” said Field.

“Rather sudden, isn’t it?” said Wentworth, with a curious glance.

Field’s smile still lingered.

“Oh, not really.  We have kept it to ourselves, that’s all.  The wedding is fixed for the week after next—­for the convenience of Lady Culverleigh, who wants to get out of town.”

“By Jove!  It is quick work!” said Wentworth.

There were beads of perspiration on his forehead, but the night was warm.  He held himself erect as one defying Fate.  So had he held himself throughout his trial; Field recognised the attitude.